Cara is beginning to believe thing are as they appear. How does she explain it to him? Will she help or make things worse?
Description of an animal being born, I don't think it falls into super graphic, but the two paragraphs are marked *** before and after for any who would rather skip over that part.
Sunrise broke through the window, waking her earlier than she wanted. Events of the night replayed like a strange dream as she came fully awake. She sat up and stretched the stiffness from her back.
Remus raised up, stretched and yawned loudly, then padded to the kitchen door. He was a creature of habit.
Cara followed him and opened the door to let him out. She reached for the coffee tin and filled the basket. Once the coffee was set to brew she slipped quietly down the hall.
There were clothes of all sizes in the spare room. She shuffled the Christmas decorations into the closet, something she should have done weeks ago. But the raw pain of loss was too strong then. The decorations a bittersweet reminder of the last Christmas she would spend with Grace. She brushed away the tear and moved to the dresser. There were clothes left behind from years ago, and they always came in handy.
Between Grace's friends, and visitors who failed to come dressed appropriately for riding, someone found the clothes useful. She added to them when she found appropriate items on sale. She found black sweat pants, a tee shirt, and sweatshirt she thought he would find acceptable. As an afterthought, she grabbed a pair of jeans.
She found him fast asleep, sprawled across the bed, and took the opportunity to study him. Something she had avoided last night. How many hours had it taken to complete the system of flawless tattoos which mapped his arms and chest? They were on his back and legs as well. The hair that fell over his face was longer in the back than she expected. If it wasn't impossible, she could almost believe he had told the truth. He certainly looked like Fenris. He sounded like Fenris. It would explain the sword, the wound, and the faint scars on his arms and sides. But nothing explained how he was here.
She left the clothes beside him on the bed, then pulled clean clothes for herself out of the closet. Fenris stirred in his sleep. He was fretful as if he were dreaming. He rolled to his stomach and his hand groped the floor beside the bed. She contemplated waking him, but if he was who he said he was, she would keep her distance.
Cara retrieved his sword from the living room and lay it beside the bed. When his hand curled around the hilt he let out a sigh and relaxed. She put another log on the fire and stirred the coals, then gathered his armor and leather. It needed to be cleaned, and the leather tunic mended.
She slipped back out the door and into the second bathroom. There was time for a shower before the coffee was ready. The warm water eased the aches from sleeping on the firm couch. Toweling off, she dressed quickly. Worked the tangles from her hair with her fingers, braided and wrapped it into a bun. She'd learned long ago to wear her hair up around the ranch. She should cut it, but vanity kept her hair long.
The house was still quiet. The smell of coffee drifted her way and she moved to the kitchen. Adding cream to a large mug she filled it and sipped the warm drink. She grabbed her jean jacket, slipped into her boots and went outside.
"C'mon girls." She called as she opened the door to the coop. A dozen hens cackled and cooed around her as she scattered grain to occupy them while she gathered eggs.
She set the basket of eggs and her empty mug on the steps by the kitchen door and went to the barn.
Daisy, a chestnut Morgan, was restless. Cara ran her hand along Daisy's girth and felt the tremble of a contraction. "Well, Daisy girl, I think today's the day." Daisy whickered and stamped her foot. Cara offered her fresh water, but the mare simply blew into it with a huff. "I'll be back soon," she said softly before moving to check on Scout. Daisy had shown signs of being ready for a week, but she was high strung. She did things her way and her way only. It looked like the foal was of a similar mind.
Scout's stall was open to the corral and he tossed his head as she came near. "I see someone has enjoyed the mud this morning. I swear you're part pig."
The gelding made a sound resembling a laugh and pawed the ground. Cara filled his hay and offered him some oats. "Behave today, I'll be busy with Daisy." She cleaned his stall and added fresh straw. Gave him an apple and rubbed his neck, possibly the only clean place on him. She would brush him later. He'd only roll in the mud again if she brushed him now.
She gathered fresh straw to line the stall and moved back to Daisy. After cleaning it she spread a layer of straw and found a soft cloth to wipe the mare down.
She pulled out her phone and slid her fingers over the screen. "Daisy's ready to foal." She listened a moment. "I understand. Hey, it's alright. I'm not your only customer." She laughed a moment. "Alright but you owe me dinner." With a sigh, she hung up the phone. "Looks like we're on our own." She could have told him she worried the foal would need to be turned. He would beat a line straight for the ranch to help her, but then he'd be choosing one animal over another.
"At least you didn't do this last night," Cara said rubbing the mare down. Then she gathered rope and fresh towels and a warm blanket. If the feet came first they were okay, if not she'd have to reposition the foal.
Daisy shifted her weight, and occasionally kicked her belly, but this wasn't her first foal and she remained calm. Nearly two hours later her water broke. With a grunt, Daisy lay down in the stall. Cara rubbed her cheek and neck, speaking softly. Horses are born quickly, once the mare enters the second stage. She waited, expecting the nose or hooves to emerge any moment. When nothing changed, she was certain the foal was positioned wrong. Cara muttered under her breath. She gently slipped a rope around Daisy's hind legs. The last thing Cara needed was kicked turning the foal.
She went to the sink and pulled off her jacket and sweatshirt, leaving only her tank top. She washed her arms to her armpits and pulled on long sterile gloves.
She knelt by the horse. Speaking quietly as she felt for the problem. She heard the barn door open and looked at the bright light. "I thought you were held up with another mare?" She called expecting Sean.
"I think you expected someone else," Fenris said.
"Any pair of hands would be welcome." She pushed on the foal and Daisy tried to roll. "Hold her head would you? Don't let her roll."
Without a word he knelt beside the mare and gripped her bridle.
Cara was passed her elbows now. She only needed to free the hind legs or push far enough for the foal to turn on its own. She preferred the latter, instead, a hind leg moved free. With a grunt, she pushed forward to grip the other and ease it back gently. Daisy bore down and the foal slipped forward. She kept hold of the back hooves and was glad she had, the foal tried to tuck them again. "Had to do this ass-backwards, just like your mother." She muttered.
Fenris chuckled, drawing her attention. She looked up and met his gaze. She wasn't sure what to read in his expression, but there was almost a smile she saw on his face. Finally, the hooves were free and she waited until the next push to pull gently, helping ease the hindquarters through slowly. Daisy blew another breath in frustration and with a grunt pushed again. Cara held under the hips now and gently pulled. The next push and the foal slid free. Daisy lay there a moment, her breathing heavy.
"You can let her go now." Cara wiped the sack from the foal's face and pulled the end of the rope on the mare's legs and freed them. Daisy turned and immediately attended her baby. Cara helped wipe it free of the membrane. "He's beautiful, Daisy."
Daisy was a chestnut Morgan, light reddish brown with a lighter mane and tale. The foal looked like his mother, with the addition of a white star on his forehead, and one white sock on his front left leg. His father was her white Arabian stallion, making the foal one of the few colt Morabs.
"You've done this before," Fenris said.
"Not usually alone."
"The person held up?"
Cara nodded. "Sean, he was dealing with another difficult birth." She looked up and smiled at him. "Thank you. Sometimes they try to stand when things go wrong."
"Yet you took the risk." His tone was almost condescending.
"My horses are my livelihood. But they are also family. I'm willing to take a risk to save them if I can, but I'm not reckless." Cara felt her irritation grow, then took a breath. If he was Fenris, he was probably as freaked out by all of this as she was.
"I apologize; I was only surprised to see someone -" He stopped.
Cara raised an eyebrow. "Someone what? Pretty? Female? Or were you going to say small?" She gave him a smug grin at the surprise that flitted across his face a moment.
He coughed. "An error in judgment. I've never seen someone assist in such a manner. It seemed a reckless idea."
"Few people have seen a horse born. Usually, they foal in the middle of the night. Daisy is - well to put it mildly - she's a pain in the ass. I was lucky she couldn't delay this any longer."
Fenris chuckled. He stood when she did and moved beside her near the stall door. Cara pulled the gloves off and tossed them toward the trash can outside the stall. She looked back to see a slight smile on his face. She followed his gaze and blushed. Her pink tank top was damp and clung to her, and the points at the ends of her breast which held his attention. Rolling her eyes, she pushed past him and grabbed her sweatshirt. With her back to him, she quickly stripped off the damp tank and pulled the sweatshirt over her head.
Daisy stood and pawed the ground, keeping her eye on the two people near her. Cara murmured to her and gathered the rest of her things. The foal tried to get his legs under him. His first attempts to stand were unsuccessful. Between each attempt, he would rest. Cara circled her arms around herself. No matter how many time she saw this it still an amazed her.
"Does he need assistance?" Fenris asked.
Cara shook her head. "It's best he does this without help. He'll stand when he's ready. He's well developed and seems healthy enough."
Daisy took a long drink of water, then glanced at her foal. It cried out and she nickered back giving him encouragement. The foal found his feet and stayed upright. He swayed a few times before taking a tentative step and then another. Daisy turned and brushed it gently with her nose and took half a step as if to guide him. When the foal began to nurse Cara let out the breath she held.
Within the next hour, the foal was fed and sleeping. Daisy was finishing her bran mash, ready to put the ordeal of birth behind her. Cara grabbed the rake to clean the stall again but Fenris took it from her.
"I can do this."
"Um, sure. Fresh straw is over there." She pointed a thumb behind her and looked at herself. "I should have waited on that shower. I'll - go clean up. Thank you."
She felt his eyes follow her out of the barn and couldn't resist the urge to look back. A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth and she felt her cheeks warm.
She carried in the basket of eggs and mug, set them on the counter. Then went to her room to grab clean clothes and showered quickly. She was back in the kitchen preparing scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns when Fenris opened the door.
"Hungry?" She asked him. He only nodded. She finally took a look at him. He'd found the clothes she set out. Maybe he was taller than she had thought, the clothes seemed to fit him comfortably. "There's coffee, though it's gone cold by now. Or there's hot water for tea."
"Where am I?" he asked.
Cara's hands stilled, and she took in a deep breath. "Maybe if you tell me what you last remember I can explain." She watched his brow furrow and a distant look enter his eyes.
"I was following a group of slavers. I must have grown careless. I remember a bright light. Then the lightning storm. I saw the barn through the rain, and sought shelter." He shook his head. "This place feels different." He looked around the room. "These things are - strange." He frowned at her. "What did you mean by costume? You have seen others who look like me?"
Cara bit her lower lip and moved the pan from the stove. "What year?"
"Excuse me?"
"The date, what was the date?" she asked. Maybe knowing what events had happened, would help her understand how he got here.
"9:41 Dragon, why does it matter?"
"It is more for me than you. Eat first and I will try to explain what I know."
He sighed but nodded.
"Coffee or tea?" she asked.
"Coffee."
Cara pulled a new mug from the cupboard and poured coffee into it. "Plain or cream and sugar?"
"Plain, and thank you."
She hesitated before the microwave, but opened the door and placed the mug inside. "Let me heat it for you."
He watched with wide eyes. "What manner of magic is that?"
"It's not magic, it's science, though it does seem magical." She pulled the cup out and set it before him, then set the food on the table. "Help yourself."
Fenris looked at the food a moment. "Ladies first."
Cara shrugged and fixed a plate, leaving well over half for Fenris if he wanted. "Please, take what you want, there is plenty of food."
"You are stalling. Why?"
Cara sighed. "Yeah, I suppose I am, but I find unpleasant news is often best heard when you have a full stomach. Please, eat. Surely you're hungry?"
Cara suppressed a grin at the sound of his stomach growling.
He filled his plate and sipped at the coffee. The plate before him was soon empty. "Thank you, for a satisfying meal."
"You're welcome." Cara rose from her seat and took the empty plates from the table. Filled the sink, and began washing them. She had left the platter the table.
Fenris picked it up and carried it to her. "You made enough to feed three, is there someone else?" He set it on the counter beside the sink.
"I didn't know how hungry you might be. The rest is for Remus. He'll come back when he's hungry. He's either chasing rabbits or chasing his tail. The silly pup."
Fenris had moved behind her and she collided with his chest when she turned. "Oh!" He caught her before she lost her balance. A shiver of pleasure moved over her, and warmth spread out from his hands on her hips. She stepped back but there was nowhere to go. The counter was at her back and he was less than an arm's length in front of her. Her heart raced, and her eyes darted to the side trying to find a place to retreat to.
"You're afraid of me." He dropped his arms and stepped back. "Until now, you seemed fearless."
Cara cleared her throat. "Not exactly afraid. It's -" He would most likely be insulted if he thought she was attracted to him. Especially after he learned where he was. "This isn't going to be easy for you to hear and yes, I suppose I'm afraid of your reaction. You aren't - " She clamped her mouth shut. She was making a mess of this already.
"How is it you know me? Or rather, you know of me, but don't believe I am who I say." He shook his head.
"I am beginning to believe you, but well, it seems impossible. Let's move to the other room. It's more comfortable, and if you feel like it after, I have wine." She walked out of the room, leaving him to follow.
She stirred the fire in the fireplace and added another log. Soon flames sprang to life lapping and enveloping the wood. The scent of pine was sharp as the needles burst into flame.
She moved to the couch and folded the blankets setting them in a stack with the pillow. "Please, sit wherever you'd like."
"I'd prefer to stand." He wanted distance from her. The soft scent of fruit, vanilla, and musk surrounding her was distracting. He moved to stand before the fireplace and soaked in the heat as it spread out to chase the chill from the room.
She sat in an overstuffed chair. Cara began with the storm. How it felt different than others, and the strange light she thought she saw.
The bright light she described was the first thing he remembered and the rain. When the lightning continued, he'd simply assumed the power he felt was the close proximity of the first strike.
"The lightning is the first I remember. When the it continued, I abandoned my sword and sought shelter." He clenched a fist. It had been foolish to drop it, but the strikes of lightning seemed attracted to it. He'd awakened to find it in his hand. "You have my thanks for returning it. I am in your debt."
"I found your sword first. Soon after the storm quit, Remus demanded we check things out." She grew silent.
He found her worrying at her bottom lip, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
"Before the storm, I was following a group of slavers and mercenaries. Any events between then and the storm are gone from memory. I was in the Hinterlands, near the town of Redcliffe. But I'm not familiar with a place called, Montana."
"This is where things become - unbelievable." She moved to the bookcase and pulled a book from the shelf. She held it out to him.
He'd never seen a book with artwork on the cover. This one bore a mage casting fire around her, with a familiar face silhouetted behind her. "I know this witch." He pointed to the gray face. "I was with Hawke when Merrill called her from an amulet."
"Yes. Flemeth. The Witch of the Wilds. The other woman is her daughter, Morrigan. Morrigan had the Hero of Ferelden slay her mother." Cara snorted. "She's in for a helluva surprise. Wish I could be there for their reunion."
"Be there? I don't understand. This is a history of events." Within the book, he found vibrant colored paintings and excerpts from history. Vague summaries of major events. Many things were unknown by most commoners. Only scholars cared for such things. "Are you a witch or a scholar?"
"I guess you could call me a scholar. I love history, but this is not a history of my world." Cara held her breath.
Fenris slowly closed the book and stared at her. "Your world?" He looked around him. He'd assumed this was the future.
"This isn't Thedas, we call it Earth. How you got here? I don't know. Honestly, I thought Thedas was a made-up place in a book. It's part of a big fantasy fiction game series."
"How is this possible?" He felt the panic and anger rise. Magic. Magic was always to blame! She had tended his wounds, treated him with respect. Until he was certain she wasn't lying he would contain his anger. "How do I get home?"
"I don't know. The magic that brought you here isn't possible in this world. Magic is almost nonexistent. What magic we have is little more than stuff created with illusions, deceptions, and science."
He grew silent his brow furrowed, the lines of his mouth hard, and pinched. Cara saw the whitening around his knuckles.
"There is more but it looks like you need some time alone. There is a gnarled old trunk behind the barn, my brother used to hit with a sword." She walked to the bar and pulled a bottle of red wine, and set out a glass. "I'll leave this for you." She slipped quietly out of the room.